Every Kiss (23 page)

“I couldn’t ever trust you.”

My mouth falls open, and I have a nearly uncontrollable urge
to slap the shit out of him.

“I wish you the best, Callie.” He shuts the door softly, and
his footsteps fade away down the stairs.

“WHAT THE HELL happened last night,
Callie?” Makenna stands over me with her hands fisted at her hips.

I rub my eyes and squint up at her. “I’d love to tell you,
but first you have to give me some clue of what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s start with this.” She shoves a folded slip of paper
in my face.

I can see the shadow of words scrawled on the inside, and I
have a feeling this isn’t good. I could easily bet a million dollars that I
know who wrote this note.

Yep. I was right.

Shane,

Something came up with work, and I need to get back and
take care of it. Since you don’t have anything else going on right now, I
thought it would be good for you to stay here this week and hang out with
Makenna, and you can just ride back with her. There’s not any sense in you only
staying the weekend because of me. Sorry for having to bail on you in the
middle of the night, but I doubt you’ll miss me. I’m sure Mak is much better
company. Call me when you get back next weekend, and we’ll make plans to hang
out.

Love you little bro,

W

“Well, if I had to guess, it looks like he had something
come up at work, and needed to get back. It’s not unusual for him to work on
the weekend.”

She plops onto the side of the bed. “Nice try. Tell me what
really happened.”

I stare at her for a moment, deciding how many details I’m
willing to part with. “Okay. Your scheme bombed big time, and I owe you a good
reaming. But right now, I’d rather sleep, so pencil me in for later today.”

“Callie, I’m not stupid. I saw how you two acted yesterday,
so I can’t believe for a second that it didn’t work. But I know something
happened last night that freaked him out. Just tell me.”

“Are you both looking for someone to blame?” I sit up and
throw my hands into the air. “Because Wesley Baxter sure as hell couldn’t
possibly do anything wrong. Wesley Baxter can be a complete asshole and
everyone just has pity on him instead of making him act like a damn adult and
stop throwing temper tantrums. Wesley Baxter can treat people like shit because
he’s been through a few rough patches in his life. That makes it totally
forgivable. So, fine, I’ll be the damn scapegoat. I’m the jerk who tried to see
through the bullshit and tried to make him fight for his own happiness.
Somehow, through all of this nonsense, I’m the one who seems to be falling in love
with the stupid bastard, and he’s too self-centered to even see it. Not that
he’d care anyway because I’m not trustworthy. To sum it all up, Makenna, you
can point your finger at me. He left because of me.”

Tears are welling up in her eyes, and her bottom lip is
quivering. “Callie, I—I’m sorry. Wes is a good person, and he doesn’t mean to—”

“Stop right there. I can’t listen to any more excuses for
his behavior. He’s a grown man, and he needs to grow a pair. Life sometimes
sucks ass, and it hurts like hell. But when it knocks you down, you stand back
up and dare it to knock you down again. And when it does, you get up again and
spit right in life’s stupid face. Until you and Shane can see that he needs to
grow the hell up, I don’t have anything else to say to either of you. I’m so
over this crap.”

She jumps up and runs from the room, slamming the door shut
on her way out. I can hear Shane asking her what’s wrong when she makes it
downstairs, and I’m sure she’s telling him everything I just said about his brother.
Bet that’ll make him just adore me.

Good, now
I’m
the one being an ass to everyone. Oh,
well. If they’re going to accuse me of making Wes leave, I might as well get
the satisfaction of earning it.

Almost two days down of this lovely vacation and five more
to go. Awesome.

LONGEST WEEK OF my life. Without a
doubt.

Imagine yourself at a beautiful beach house for a week with
your best friend. There’s this gorgeous, mostly secluded beach and all kinds of
neat restaurants and shops to go to. But you don’t go anywhere and don’t have
anyone to talk to because everyone is giving you the silent treatment. Yeah,
it’s been like that.

Maybe I was a little harsh. Maybe I wish I’d explained it
all a little more calmly. But do I think anything I said was false? Hell no,
not a single word.

However, I just
thought
these last few days were
long. No, it was the six hours of being stuck with them in the car that has
sucked. At least while we were at the house, I could keep myself secluded to my
room, but in the car, there’s no escaping the tension. Oh, sure, they’re
speaking to me today, but it’s only out of necessity. Like when we went to a
drive-thru to order lunch, Shane actually had to ask me what I wanted to eat.
And Makenna actually had to ask me to hold the stall door shut at that gas
station.

I get why they’re pissed at me. Well, kinda. Yeah, I let
Makenna have it, but she deserved it. And I did say some pretty mean things
about Shane’s brother, but I didn’t lie about anything I said. So, you know
what? They can bite me. I know they’re waiting on me to apologize, but that’s
just not going to happen. Ever.

There’s a tap on my knee, so I yank my earbuds out and open
my eyes. “What?”

“We’re on your street.” Makenna points out the window.

Shane flips on the blinker and slows before pulling into my
driveway. “Do you need help getting your suitcase in the house?” Not
let
me help you. He’s basically telling me to drag it in myself. His mom sure would
be proud.

“Nope. I’m good.” I push the door open. “It’s been real fun.
Thanks for driving me all the way home instead of kicking me out at the edge of
town. Real kind of you.” Okay, so I didn’t have to say all that, but whatever.
It is what it is. And they clearly didn’t appreciate it because I manage to
wrestle my suitcase only halfway up the sidewalk before they’re speeding away.

My mom flings the front door open. “Hey, birthday girl.
Makenna didn’t want to stay and hang out for a bit? Or did you two get enough
of each other this week?”

I kiss her on the cheek. “That’s the understatement of the
century.”

“Ouch. That doesn’t sound good. You want to talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s not really a big deal.” I shrug. “She asked for
the truth, but she didn’t like hearing it. I might’ve been a little too harsh,
but Makenna never holds a grudge long. I’m not too worried about it. You know
how it is when you spend way too much time with someone. It can’t be puppies
and rainbows
all
the time.”

Mom helps me get my suitcase in the door and drapes an arm
over the top of my shoulders. “Honey, you’re not telling me anything I don’t
know. Don’t forget I shared a room with my two sisters.”

That’s the truth. I’ve heard some pretty wild stories. My
grandma got pregnant twice—the first produced a set of triplet girls and the
second produced twin boys. From what I’ve heard, their house was a three ring
circus. No one can blame my grandma for being a little nutty these days.

“Thank God I’m an only child.” I look around the living
room. “Is Dad still not home?”

“He came in yesterday, but he took my car to get new tires.
It’s good to have him home, so some of the manly stuff can finally get done. We
didn’t think you’d get home until later this afternoon, so he was trying to get
everything done before you got here. What do you want to do for your birthday
dinner . . . go out or stay in?”

“Definitely in. Lots of pasta and cake. And we’ll finish off
the evening curled up on the couch with a movie.”

Mom laughs, the slightest hint of crow’s feet crinkle at her
eyes. “That’s my kind of party. Carbs, carbs topped with sugar, and then
followed by an activity to ensure it goes straight to my thighs. It’ll be a
sacrifice, but it’s the least I can do for my sweet girl.” She usually eats
healthy, but she hops off the wagon every now and then. “Now, on to more
important things. You don’t look like you got much sun, but let me see your
shoulders.”

I roll my eyes. Why did my mom have to be a dermatologist?
“I didn’t get
any
sun, Mom. I didn’t go out all that much, but when I
did, I wore sunscreen and stayed under the umbrella.”

She peeks under my sleeves. “Good girl. Why don’t you get
unpacked and rest a while? I’ll even start your laundry for you. Then, when
your dad gets home, we’ll hang out and you can tell us what all you did in Gulf
Shores.”

Umm, let’s see. This last week, I pretended to read a book
while staring at a half-naked man. I went to a club, drank way too much wine,
and ground my ass on the same guy. Also, he licked frosting off my finger and
mouth before I straddled him and made out with him. Then, he proceeded to tell
me he didn’t want to see me anymore and that he didn’t trust me. When my best
friend asked me about it, I chewed her out, and she didn’t talk to me for the
rest of the week. I don’t there’s anything that happened this last week that my
parents would really appreciate hearing.

“Sure, mom.” As in, sure, I’ll avoid that subject like the
plague.

After I get everything unpacked, I’m too restless to watch
TV or anything, so I decide to poke around on the internet a while. Maybe I’ll
find some good sales. I sit at my desk, and my eyes are drawn to the pictures
covering the corkboard above my computer.

Ah, high school . . . seems like so long ago. I thought life
was simple back then. No real complications. No real worries. All I had to do
back then was keep my grades up and my room clean, and my parents were happy.
That’s it. Everything else in my life came easy. Once I started ninth grade, I
was finally out of my ugly duckling phase and got my braces off, and the boys
finally started to notice me. By the time I was in eleventh grade, I was one of
the cool kids. I was always surrounded by friends, I never had to worry about
having a date to the school dances, and everyone wanted me at their parties.

I didn’t know it then, but that person wasn’t really me.
I’ve always been opinionated and spoke my mind about things, but when it came
to how I looked in high school, I was a damn puppet. I wore what the other
girls wore, I styled my hair like theirs, and I even wore the same color of
nail polish. It was ridiculous. Makenna wasn’t like that at all, and she was
the only person I didn’t have to pretend with. I never have had to. She’s
always been that one person that, even if she didn’t like what I was doing or
saying, she supported me.

It’s funny how you don’t find out who you really are until
all of that is gone. College was a real eye-opener for me. Nobody knew who I
was, and nobody cared to find out. I was just another freshman taking up space.
I was surprised that I actually liked
not
being the center of attention
for a change. I liked not having to dress a certain way, just because people
expected me to. If I wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt every single day,
nobody really cared. It took those first couple of years in college to really
discover who I really was and what I really liked.

That’s why I don’t much like looking at these photos, but
they also serve as a reminder for me to stay true to who I really am. No matter
if Makenna and Shane think I’m a horrible person. No matter if Wes doesn’t
think I could ever be trusted. I know who I am, and I won’t change because
someone wants me to. Never again.

Shaking myself back into the present, I check my email
first, having to wait a few minutes for all of them to load. I really need to
check it more often . . .
and
stop adding my email to mailing lists. I
delete email after email of store sales, credit card offers, and blog updates,
but I nearly have a heart attack when I see the subject line of one that was
sent earlier this week from a remotely familiar email address.

I feel like my stomach drops into my feet when I open it and
see who sent it.

To:
Callie

From:
Chesley Adams

Subject:
Wesley

I received your picture a few weeks ago, but I never got
around to thanking you. So thank you. So so much. It means more to me than
anything in this world, and I look at it every day.

I’ve been thinking a lot about your question . . . you
know, when you asked why I was reaching out to him now, after all these years.
I knew the answer then, but I didn’t think I was worthy of it. And I still
don’t think I am, but meeting my son is the one thing that would make my life
complete, and I couldn’t stand myself any longer if I don’t at least try to
make that connection with him, even if it’s just for two minutes.

I know what kind of a position this will put you in, but
I really need your help. And I need it fast. I don’t expect you to help me
without the full explanation, so I’m willing to tell you anything you want to
know. I’m hopelessly desperate, so please, whatever I need to do in order to
make this happen, consider it done. I’m in the Tuscaloosa area, so just text or
email me a time and place, and I’ll be there.

If you won’t help me, then I completely understand, and I
wish you and Wesley all the best. I hope to hear from you soon.

Oh hell. I can’t get in the middle of this, especially now
that he never even wants to see me again. I know his mother is desperate, and I
know what it would mean to her to get to speak to him. But then again, I know
that she’s partly responsible for his inability to trust women, the reason he
doesn’t think anyone could ever stay with him. Maybe if her reason is good
enough, he can actually believe for once that he’s worthy of love. Maybe I can
listen to her story and decide if it might be beneficial for him to hear.

But, oh, he’ll be so pissed if he finds out I intervened.
Perhaps I should call his mom and let her know that Chesley has contacted me
and what she’s asking me to do. I’m sure Eve would much rather handle the
situation. I do a search online for Robert and Eve Baxter, and I’m quite amazed
that their number is listed. After punching the numbers into my phone, I take a
deep breath and say a little prayer that Wes isn’t there. That would
not
be good.

“Baxter residence,” a cheerful voice answers. Thank God.

“Mrs. Baxter? This is Callie.”

“Just a moment, dear. Let me go into my office.” A hand
covers the phone, and I can hear her explaining something about ordering drapes
before a door closes. “Callie, sweetheart. How are you?”

Oh, good. Wes and Shane haven’t turned their entire family
on me yet. “I’m okay. You?”

“Lovely. By the way, if we get interrupted, and I start
talking about fabric, just play along. The boys are here today, and they think
I took a work call.”

Great. “So I guess Shane told everyone what I said.”

“Well, not entirely. He got here just a bit ago and said
that things were a little strained with you this last week because you said
some pretty mean things about Wesley. Wes just asked Shane what was said when
you called, so I haven’t heard the whole story. Do you want to talk about it?”

I groan. “I’m so sorry. I never intend to stir up trouble
with your family, but I somehow manage anyway.” I pinch the bridge of my nose
and rest my elbow on my desk. “I basically told Makenna that Wes needs to grow
some balls—pardon my language—and stop making excuses for himself, that life is
hard for everyone and he shouldn’t shut down just because he’s had some bad
things happen to him. It made it all a little worse that I was kinda hateful to
Makenna over it, and of course, she told Shane, too. I’m so sorry, Eve.”

“Honey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t think you
said anything that wasn’t honest. Just give it some time. It will all blow
over. Oh, uh . . . hang on just a minute.” She lays the phone down and I hear
her asking someone what’s going on. A muffled voice answers, but I can’t tell
who. She sighs and a door closes. “You still there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, the boys are arguing and Robert is about to blow his
top. We should meet up for lunch one day, and we’ll talk about everything. Was
there a reason you called?”

“Oh, if you’re too busy . . .”

“No, no, no. What is it?”

Here goes nothing. “Chesley Adams.”

Everything is silent, and I begin to wonder if she’s hung up
the phone. “Well,” she finally whispers. “That’s not a name I hear too often.
What about her?”

I go on to explain how she showed up at Wes’ house the
morning after the banquet and everything that was said, including the fact that
I sent her our picture. Then I read the email to her, word for word. I can only
faintly hear her breathing, so I know she’s still with me, but she doesn’t say
anything.